


Emily of Aspalaria

by Eleanor Green (eldestmuse)



Category: Lithmeria: The Endless Siege
Genre: Coming of Age, Escape, Freedom, Gen, Lamaar Bay, aspalaria, ebon tower, farshield, farshield fort, iron hand, phantoms, trespass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldestmuse/pseuds/Eleanor%20Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman flees a life she hates and becomes a powerful force within the Sovereignty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Lithmeria is a multi-user dungeon revolving around a globe-spanning conflict between the Accord of Teladir and the Aspalarian Sovereignty. It is scheduled to release on October 12, 2012.

The rain burns like acid on her skin and she wants nothing more than to leave this cursed hellhole of a city despite all of the lies and tears it took to get this far north. Even the air is black, gritty with soot and ash. It clings to her hair, dusting her vibrant locks with gray flecks that turn to mud and render her just another miserable face on the faded street.

  
A tower, stories taller than the building surround it, emerges from the haze and she steps up her pace, hurrying toward the sanctuary of its ancient halls. It is black, which does not surprise her, but the ebony stone shines with a clarity and cleanliness that does not seem possible in this polluted clime.

  
“Emily!”

  
Once, the sound of her name in _that tone_ , shouted by _that voice_ would have stopped her in her tracks. She still feels the thrill of fear, but she keeps going, breaks into a run.

  
She’s through the archway now, footsteps heavy on the cobblestones. Her wet hair clings to her face despite the violence of her movements, but she barely notices.

  
“Don’t you do this, girl.” He is close.

  
The run, the miles of travel, have winded her. He is bigger, stronger, faster, than she will ever be. In her heart, she knows that she will not make it to the tower. It doesn’t stop her from trying. She fears nothing as much as giving up.

  
He grabs her arm a half-pace before the stairway. She cries out as the hard jerk he gives her sends her sprawling across the black jade. A crack echoes off the walls as her jaw connects with the corner of a step. Her eyes meet those of the guard who stands at the top of the stairway before the entrance. His expression is flinty; he will not abandon his post.

  
Fingers dig into the soft flesh of her arm like a vice. There is nothing gentle about the way she is hauled back to her feet.

  
“Poppa, please!” she sobs.  Tears and pain obscure her vision.

 

“You should’ve listened,” he says as he throws her over his shoulder like a bale of hay.

  
She kicks her feet and pounds on his back like an unruly child, to no avail.

  
He takes three steps.

  
“Put her down.”

  
She lifts her head and sees a woman’s dainty lower half, clad in black. Her heart beats faster, hope and humiliation warring within her. As the magic swirls around them, her father’s muscles go rigid with protest. It doesn’t prevent him from being made to comply with the arcanist’s order.

  
“You can’t do this,” he says through clenched teeth.

  
“Your name is Emily?” asks the black-clothed woman. Even her hair is the color of ebony. She is flanked on either side by a burly man dressed in chainmail.

  
Emily nods. She cannot speak.

  
“I caught her before she made it!” he objects.

  
Finally she looks at him, as a god might gaze upon a bug. “You’re trespassing,” she says.

  
The guard to her left glances to the outer wall and makes a gesture. An iron gate slams down, blocking the archway entrance into the tower courtyard.

  
“Come, Emily. You have studies to begin.”


	2. Becoming a Rumor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young woman flees a life she hates and becomes a powerful force within the Sovereignty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lithmeria is a multi-user dungeon revolving around a globe-spanning conflict between the Accord of Teladir and the Aspalarian Sovereignty. It is scheduled to release on October 12, 2012.

Emily knows better than to sit in the back row – the lesson came early that hanging back only earned one harder tasks. The front, too, is a trap – the instructors notice the overeager ones and seem to take perverse delight in breaking their egos. Dead center is an obvious attempt at anonymity, and thus pointless.

Third row, two from the end – it is her place and she is comfortable in it.

Comfort cannot save her from the crushing feeling of failure. She has studied at the Ebon Tower for months now, and though she knows she has the talent, the ability to see and manipulate the magic of the source, her attempts to manifest that talent are coming to naught.

It takes her immense effort to summon the bolt of stone and bludgeon the target. She is sweating, while her fellows view the exercise as a warm-up. She cannot manage the vortex at all, and the whispers of her classmates are like blows against her heart.

Her seat is cold by the time the instructor acknowledges that she will not move past this point in her training, but the warmth in her cheeks is all she can feel. Only an effort of will keeps tears of frustration from cooling them.

Class is dismissed. She stands, dark hair falling forward to obscure her face as she joins the pack of students in the rush for the door. It is the last lesson of the day, and the spring air is a tonic they all seek.

“Emily.”

She freezes like a deer confronted by a tiger as the instructor says her name. Her classmates move around her as though she is a rock and they are a stream. The crushing of her dreams is something they will pretend not to see, lest it jinx their own chances of success. Pulling herself together, she turns, disrupting the last sputters of the exiting tide.

“Yes, Lady?” she answers, and her voice does not waver. Though she cannot control her magic, she has an iron hold upon herself.

“Stay a moment,” the instructor says, coming out from behind the ebony podium. Her expression is flat and neutral, but that comes as no surprise. She shuts the door behind the last of the students before turning to Emily, who stands in the middle of the room with her hands clasped in front of her. “It is clear that you will never make it as an Arcanist.”

Emily opens her mouth to object, to plead that she can try harder, that she only needs more time, but she bows her head instead.

A bony index finger lifts her chin. The instructor looks her in the eye as she says, “This does not mean that you will not make it at the Tower, Emily.”

“I do not understand,” she says.

“A place has been arranged for you with the Iron Hand.”

She looks down at herself. Her form is feminine and slight. Though this would not automatically disqualify her from a position with the guardians of the Ebon Tower, she does not have a fighter’s mentality – it is not in her nature to fight dirty. She knows this, and so do the instructors, and so this time, she does object.

“There is more to the Iron Hand than their public persona,” the instructor says.

Emily’s blue eyes widen. “The Phantoms?” she whispers. “I thought they were a rumor.”

“They are,” she says, and her tone is stern.


	3. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young woman flees a life she hates and becomes a powerful force within the Sovereignty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lithmeria is a multi-user dungeon revolving around a globe-spanning conflict between the Accord of Teladir and the Aspalarian Sovereignty. It is scheduled to release on October 12, 2012.

“Stay here,” she whispers to her allies, the bodyguards who have accompanied her east from the Tower. Their time is past: they have protected her from the brigands that might otherwise be a danger to a woman traveling alone, but she is no longer traveling swiftly along the roads.   
  
Now, Emily slips away, leaving the area before the guards can object or even respond. She is gone before they notice her absence, and she allows herself a small smile at the little success. It is the little successes, she knows, that foreshadow the important moments in life.   
  
Today will be a little success, if she manages the task that has been set before her. But if she fails, it will shatter her dreams more thoroughly than she has ever before experienced.  
  
She steps lightly around the curve of the road and walks through the merchant quarter. Her teachers taught her well. No trace of her passing remains as she walks along the Farshield Wharf. The scent of the harbor is not pleasant, but it is unfamiliar and for that fact alone, it fascinates her. Rotting sewage mingles with ocean salt, though she does not know that it is what wafts on the air.   
  
She lingers. The ships docked along the Wharf hold her attention for a moment. One day, if she does not allow some disaster to befall her, she will board one of those ships. Perhaps she will be a stowaway, perhaps a paying passenger – perhaps she will even travel upon a military vessel bound for the Lamaar bay. Her imagination overtakes her for a moment, but the moment is brief.   
  
She walks north along the Wharf, until she stands at the corner of the harbor and must turn eastward. Past the warehouses is a dirt road that leads up a hill. She steps down off the wooden platform that is the base of the Wharf, and again goes north. Past the first inn is a tavern. A picture of a red dog is painted on a sign above the door. It is snarling, frothing at the mouth like it is rabid. The bubbly spittle reminds her of the foam of a light beer.   
  
She slips inside and finds a corner table that is near the bar. Few of the other patrons sit at tables, but no one seems to notice that she is out of place. She sits facing the door and listens to the conversations of the Tavern’s patrons.   
  
It is three hours before she notices the dice game in the back room, and by then she is hungry. She subtly adjusts her posture and beckons toward the waitress, who does not seem perturbed that she missed Emily’s entrance. The young Phantom believes the wrinkled woman has lost the capacity to be surprised or bothered by much of anything.   
  
“A tankard of ale and a bowl of whatever soup you’re serving,” she says, reverting to the farmgirl accent of her youth.   
  
The waitress nods and hurries off.   
  
Two hours later, Emily leaves the Red Dog Tavern with a full stomach and a fair handle on the local gossip. Thus armed, she feels ready to test the defenses of the Farshield Fort. Though she is confident that they will pose no problem to even her inexperienced self, after hearing the veterans talk about their turns at standing watch, she does not look forward to returning to her superiors and reporting that success.   
  
They will not be pleased at the state of readiness in their easternmost port, and they may take out that displeasure on her. It has happened before.


End file.
